Page 17 of Colour My World
“But tell me…” Wickham strolled past him, brushing a hand over the long table where swords rested in their racks. “What shall you do when the next man is faster? When he does not fight with honour?”—his grin sharp— “I daresay it will be quite the lesson.”
Darcy kept his grip firm. Wickham was not real. He was nothing.
Wickham sighed. “And yet, a gentleman with scars is not a gentleman at all. Do take care.” He tapped the air as if in mock farewell.
Darcy did not stop his training until his arms shook too much to lift the blade.
* * *
December 1803
The master lunged. Darcy countered.
A clash of steel, a swift strike, and for the first time, Darcy did not yield ground.
The master’s foot shifted back, barely perceptible, but enough.
Darcy pressed. He parried the next attack, faster, sharper. When he struck, he met his target.
Master Angelo grunted and stepped back. A slow smile curved his lips. “At last.”
Darcy straightened, chest heaving.
A polite cough. “Congratulations, sir,” Barty said, tone even. “Shall I send word to Miss Darcy that you will attend her music lesson?”
Darcy frowned. “She expects me?”
Barty inclined his head. “Quite certain.” When Darcy did not respond, Barty bent his head in a sort of acknowledgement. “As you say, sir.”
Master Angelo chuckled. “Many a man would have quit.”
Darcy wiped his brow. “Lesser men do not bear my name.”
“Ah, there is our old friend,” Angelo said to the others who had gathered to watch. “His Arrogance has arrived.”
Darcy did not respond.
“Tell me, sir—have you earned victory?”
Darcy lifted his chin. “I believe so.”
“Foolish.” Master Angelo shook his head. “You have merely stopped losing.”
* * *
The salle had emptied; only the faint scent of oil and sweat lingered.
In the retiring room, Darcy dropped the glove and unfastened the leather guard from his wrist.
Barty waited by the wardrobe.
“You have something to say.”
“Nothing of consequence, sir.” Barty accepted the sodden tunic and wiped down Darcy’s torso. “Shall I lay out the indigo, sir?”
Darcy gave a curt nod. “It will do.”
“Shall I inform Matlock House you will not be attending Miss Darcy’s lesson?”
